Our wills and fates do so contrary run, That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.

The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.

Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.

If she be not honest, chaste, and true, there's no man happy.

When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand.

There was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently

Oh what fools we mortals are.